


Stars

by UnknownPaws



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, I am not an astronomer, M/M, Sad Ending, The Musing of Stars and Matter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-13
Updated: 2020-03-13
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:33:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23124808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnknownPaws/pseuds/UnknownPaws
Summary: "Do you think stars dream?"
Relationships: Male Jedi Consular | Barsen'thor/Theron Shan
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	Stars

**Author's Note:**

> I take no responsibility for the angst that appears.

“Do you think stars dream?”   
  
Theron turns his head, cheek brushing the grass that pillows him. He feels it; the soft caress against his weary body, a gentle cradle he’d longed for since the day he’d come to be. Beside him, Lin is no different; tired, worn and ready for rest. His emerald skin pale in the silver of the night’s single giant moon, looming above them like a welcoming light. He keeps his gaze up to the sky, eyes dull and faded.    
  
He remembers when they were bright, just that morning.   
  
He remembers a lot from that morning, when everything was still warm and pleasant, and the day had not yet begun.   
  
Now, in the last hours, he feels the weight of it all upon him. Smothering him. Crushing him. It’s hard to breathe beneath the burden, the exhaustion he now feels. He exhales, the sound raspy in the cold night air, unstable clouds sputtering out past his lips. It’s cold, much colder than it’d been before, and he shivers; the temperature is dropping, and the grass beneath him is getting wet.    
  
He’s tired, so tired.    
  
He keeps his head to the side, to Lin; the smaller man is sprawled out next to him, so close he can feel their arms touching. Their hands, calloused and cracked, twitch against each other; he wants to hold his, wants to feel the warm, soft touch of Lin’s palm beneath his. Their fingers, his thick and Lin’s spindly, tangling. The comforting pressure of a squeeze between digits.   
  
He wants that; but he can’t move anymore.    
  
Lin shudders; for a minute, Theron fears. But he shifts, as much as only an inch, until they are pressed together. Side by side; alone in the glass upon a hill in the middle of the woods. Beneath the moonlit sky, with nothing but the call of nature and glare of the moon to accompany them.   
  
“Theron.”   
  
Lin manages to meet his eyes, barely keeping awake. He’d worn himself out the most; the burden of being a Jedi, always putting the needs of the Good and others before yourself even when you’ve hit your limit.    
  
He’s burnt out; Theron can see that.    
  
Yet still, he manages to keep on giving, even when he has little left.    
  
“Theron.”   
  
“Yeah?”   
  
“Do the stars dream?”   
  
“What do you mean?”   
  
“Are they like us” Lin spares a glance to the sky again, eyes straining to see.   
  
Theron snorts; even in the moment of quiet collapse, Lin is still strangely intrigued by things strange. “Doubt it. They’re not alive.”   
  
Lin exhales, eyes remaining stationary. “I mean… when they die, they become matter again. Just particles floating in space. And when we…”   
  
He inhales quietly, as if refusing to speak the word forbidden to the Jedi.    
  
“When we go, we become particals. In the Earth, air and space. We float away, becoming matter again.”   
  
He shifts his gaze back to Theron; his eyes are duller, exhaustion slowly gaining the upper hand. It wouldn’t be long now; Theron swallows, the gesture now painful in the coldness. He’s shivering. He ignores it, focusing instead on Lin. On the only warmth remaining.    
  
“What I mean,” Lin murmurs, head pressing against Theron’s shoulder, “is like stars, we eventually return to something small and simple. In that sense, are we not the same? We not stars, too? In the sky… waiting to burn… to shine…”   
  
“I think you read too many holonovels.”   
  
Lin snorts, nuzzling against Theron’s shoulder; Theron continues, eyes turned up to the night sky.   
  
“Even if we were like stars, the fact we’re made of matter without a brain, or anything of the sort, pretty much means we’d feel nothing. We wouldn’t be alive; we’d just be there, bright for eons, until we finally burn ourselves out. That’s pretty much it.”   
  
Lin doesn’t answer him; he rests against him, face nestled against Theron’s shoulder in a makeshift pillow.    
  
“But we’d be stars, yeah… we’d be stars.”   
  
He’s tired, so tired.    
  
The grass beneath them is soaking.    
  
He feels the cold chill sink into his bones. It’s hard to focus; he feels light, as if the world around them is lifted. As if gravity is ceasing to exist; he knows, in this moment, that he’s lost the battle to stay awake. And as the darkness creeps in, as he gives another glance to Lin, the tiny Mirialan pale but peaceful, black hair mused in the moonlight, he finds he isn’t worried.    
  
For in the morning, when it comes, he won’t be alone.    
  
“We’ll be stars…”   
  
In the sky above, two newborn dwarves blink alive. 


End file.
